Anima
by A Crimson Trick
Summary: "Immortality comes at a great price, Tom Riddle - not only will you lose your soul, but the very thing you prize more than fame, power, loyalty... your magic." To avoid becoming what he loathes, Voldemort must destroy his Horcruxes and restore his soul. The answer to finding the only things powerful enough to do that, however, lie with his biggest enemies. AU. HG/TR. fem!HP/DM.
1. VOLDEMORT

**Chapter One :: VOLDEMORT  
**

When he opened his eyes, it was sunny.

For the briefest of moments, he felt disoriented, as it seemed only mere minutes ago that it had been midnight. Immediately, his sharp mind began to take in the surroundings: he was seated, rather inelegantly, on the plush carpet of a grand and tawdry bedroom, the likes of which he kenw could only be found in Rookwood Mansion. At his side stood a four poster bed and directly in front of him was a French window, from which the first rays of daylight were streaming through. Bookshelves lined the rest of the room, and the only other furniture was an antique desk in the corner.

_Ah,_ he thought, his lip curling. He remembered now. It seemed he had spent longer on meditation than he had planned, and his practice had lasted through the early morning to noon.

His gaze moved to the ivory piece of wood which sat a few inches from him, and he picked it up, relishing the feeling of the wand humming in response to his touch. The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. It seemed he had been right; a few hours of not using magic had been all he had needed.

He pointed the wand at the nearest bookshelf. "_Accio_ Moste Potente Potions," he hissed. With narrowed eyes, he watched as the book seemed to shift a little…but did not leave its place in the shelf.

The smile abruptly left his face. Failure. Yet again.

The all-too-familiar rage he had been feeling in the past few weeks began to build in the back of his mind again, and looked down at his wand coldly. Thirteen and a half inches of yew, with a phoenix feather at its core…he had done extraordinary things with this wand over the span of decades, amazing and terrible things. He could _feel_ the power that radiated from it, the power it had absorbed from his own magical core; and yet, with all that history, the wand now refused to cast a simple Summoning Charm.

For some inexplicable reason, his wand's function seemed to be waning. At times when his patience wore thin and he needed to use the Cruciatus to remind his Death Eaters of the penalty for not following orders, it consistently disappointed him. It was true, they still screamed in terrible agony; but they no longer begged for mercy, no longer cried for forgiveness. Even more irritating was that, while he still seemed to be able to do the Unforgivables (albeit with less effectiveness than he was used to), smaller spells would not work at all.

He had not allowed his Death Eaters to see his weakness. He knew that rumours were already going through the ranks that his age was catching up to him – their parents and grandparents, after all, had been the first to join him when he was fresh out of Hogwarts – and that his power was deteriorating, but he also knew that the notion was absurd. Lord Voldemort did not succumb to such human weaknesses as Age; he was immortal.

He had believed it was only a magical block, which could be quickly remedied with meditation. Now, it seemed obvious that fixing his magic would not be as simple as that. Despite having more than half a century of knowledge at his disposal, he was quickly running out of ideas, and that in itself was enough for him to want to _Crucio_ one of his followers into insanity.

He aimed his wand at the antique desk in frustration and snarled, "_Confringo!_" When the desk failed to explode, he gritted his teeth and Silenced the whole room, before proceeding to hurl every last curse, hex and jinx he knew at it.

"_Diffindo! Defodio! Insssendio! Sectumsssempra! Interfisssio!_"

As his words began growing louder and more sibilant, and his spells grew darker, he became aware that he was succumbing to his anger more quickly than he had in a long time, but all he could think at the moment was that Lord Voldemort was the most powerful wizard in the history of the Wizarding World and that there was _no possible way_ a mere table could defy his orders when he had almost the entirety of Pureblood society on their knees in his mere presence.

"It is no use, Tom Riddle. You are only weakening yourself further. Soon, even your beloved Unforgivable Curses will cease to work."

Before the intruder even had time to finish its sentence, honed reflexes caused him to spin and shoot a well-aimed '_Crucio!'_, not giving him enough time to process who or what it was he had cursed, or what it had said.

His mind was in a haze from his frustration-driven rampage, but as quickly as he had started it, Voldemort began to rein his anger in. Even in his most passionately vulnerable moments, he was always in control. He had learnt early on that in the presence of another, whoever it may be, he always had to be in his right mind. Showing anything other than cruel and calculating superiority led them to think he had weaknesses which they could then use to manipulate him, as if he were some common mortal.

"Oh, but you _are_ a common mortal, Tom Riddle." The voice was low and strangely monotonous, as if it had discarded all use of inflection. It sounded vaguely amused, and Voldemort saw that the owner was a young girl, standing on the other side of the room. With the instinct of a blind ballerina, she had dodged his curse with the smallest step to the side, not taking her gaze off of him. He fought to suppress all indication of his surprise, but couldn't help the smallest twitch of his wand hand as he pointed it to her. There was not a hint of fear on her face or in her body language, and he decided she had to be either very brave or a fool to intrude upon him, whoever she was.

All thoughts about who she was and how she had gotten in there, however, vanished when he realised what she had called him.

"How do you know that name?" he said coldly. His red eyes flashed; only two people in the world dared to call him by his filthy Muggle name, and this girl was not one of them.

He didn't know what she was doing, but Voldemort became acutely aware of the changed atmosphere in the room. Suddenly, the room seemed too small, too confined. He could now feel so much magic in the air – pure, unadulterated magic, of a kind which he had never felt before but instinctively knew – that he felt like he was being stifled. It was only after she had crossed half the room when he realised that the magic was coming from _her_; it was rolling off of her, quite literally, wave upon wave. As her eyes met his, he thought he felt a trace of unfathomable fear wash over him.

But that was impossible. He was the greatest wizard of all time.

She looked at him condescendingly, as if he were a spoiled child who had not gotten the toy he wanted, and she was the one holding it out of arm's reach because she didn't want to spoil him even more. "It pains me, Tom, to see what has become of you; it truly does. I gave you so much potential." She took a step towards him, her large brown eyes unintimidated as she took him in. "Now, I have no choice but to take it from you."

"Who are you?" he asked with barely hidden rage, his eyes darkening to crimson. She took yet another step towards him, a hand outstretched as if to touch him, and he drew back with a hiss. "_Sectumsempra!_"

This time, she didn't even bother moving. Instead, she seemed to embrace the spell, closing her eyes. Voldemort's eyes widened when she seemed to _absorb_ it, sighing contentedly. "You cannot defeat a woman with her own weapons, Tom Riddle. Can you not see that your magic does not hurt me? I _am _Magic." She tilted her head to the side. "I see the questions reflected in your eyes. Think, Tom Riddle. You know who I am." Voldemort stared at her, his gaze almost unseeing as his mind worked furiously to put the pieces together. She gazed back, the corners of her lips uplifted as she watched him figure it out approvingly.

There was no way she was human…there was too much power. It was as if she was _made_ from magic, and her statement only confirmed the fact. He took in her attire: a heavy _peplos_ draped over her body, a bronze chaplet on her head, and in her hands were twin torches he was sure she had not been holding before. Her straight black hair crackled with energy, and she had an irritating smirk on her face. It did not take him long. He had seen her likeness often in his younger years when he had travelled the world, gathering information on all the aspects of magic he could find.

"Hecate."

The smallest sign of genuine happiness shone through her eyes. "Very good. Goddess of the crossroads, the moon…and magic. This – your brilliant mind, and your thirst to know all – was precisely why I chose you to wield so much power."

What was she talking about? He had _gained_ this power, had built it painstakingly himself as soon as he had realised he was not like the other children in the orphanage. His power had been _his_ doing.

"However, I had counted on your mind and had forgotten your arrogance."

He had not even felt her presence in his mind. "Get out," Voldemort snarled, slamming his strongest Occlumency walls up in his mind. She looked unperturbed.

"You cleverness is your own, but I bestowed your magic on you because I believed in your potential. I thought…" Here, she cut off with a bitter laugh. There was no smile on her face now. "I thought that, with the destruction Grindelwald had been causing amongst my children, they would need a strong leader, someone powerful who could bring the Wizarding World from ruins to glory once again. Grindelwald also had a great mind, and I had given him a similar gift to you. I should have learnt my lesson.

"You, like Grindelwald, have turned into an abomination. Your desire for immortality has ruined your soul, and you no longer have the capacity to feel anything other than hatred and anger. Tell me…what is a long life worth without emotion, without love and joy and sadness and grief? It is worth nothing, because it is not a life at all." She looked at him sadly. "I love all my children, witch or wizard, and I must always do what is best for them. Immortality comes at a great price, Tom Marvolo Riddle – not only will you lose your soul, but the very thing you prize more than fame, power, loyalty: your magic. Within a few months, you will be a Muggle."

"No!" Voldemort roared. He lunged towards her, his hands curled as if he meant to strangle her. There was no way… he could not be a _Muggle._ Him, the great Voldemort without magic? Muggles were the very thing he wanted to exterminate, the things he hated above anything else. He could not lose his _magic_…he _was _magic. Magic was what had shown him that he was better than his stupid Muggle father, that he was better than the Purebloods, that he was better than all of them.

He didn't care if she was a goddess. He just wanted to _kill_ her, to rip her limb from limb, to make sure she would never threaten him again. No one threatened Voldemort and lived.

"You are losing yourself in your hatred and anger again," Hecate warned him with narrowed eyes. With a wave of her hand, he was put in a Body-Bind and Silenced. "Do not presume to touch me again. Though you possess my gift, I am a goddess and you are a mortal. Do not forget your place.

"I am going to keep this as brief as possible. You are very lucky, Tom Riddle, that I love my children enough to give you a second chance. There is a way you can keep your magic, but it will be painful. It is your choice if you wish to pursue it, but either way, Voldemort will be destroyed."

Voldemort's eyes smouldered in fury. He tried to summon all his wandless magic to negate her spells, but there was no use even trying. Her will was a thousand times stronger than his.

"There are six ancient relics, once owned by my son, Myrrdin – or Merlin, as they call him now. The relics are imbued with his magic, and are the only things powerful enough to repair your soul. What you must do is this: you must have all your Horcruxes destroyed, until the last fragment of your soul is in your own body. If you do not accomplish this, your magic will continue to wane until it disappears altogether. Once those abhorrent things are gone, you will need to seek out the relics to restore your soul."

Hecate conjured a piece of parchment. "This is a list of the relics. You will need to use each one for the changes to occur. As I said, it will be painful, but it is either this or lose your magic.

"There is one last thing you should know, Tom Riddle. This is not a journey to be taken lightly, nor in solitude. You cannot destroy your Horcruxes yourself, and you will not be able to restore your soul alone. The answer to starting your quest lies with the one you have been trying to kill since infancy. The one who is destined to be the vanquisher of the Dark Lord – but not necessarily of Tom Riddle."

She approached him now, bending low to place a kiss on his bald head. She did not look disgusted or repulsed. "I had hoped this would have gone more pleasantly. Time is not on your side, my son, so I will give you a clue and suggest you might try Gloucestershire. I believe you will not disappoint me." When he blinked, she was gone and the spells she had placed on him had been lifted. Lying in the middle of the room was the single piece of parchment.

Voldemort screamed in hatred.

That night, he murdered every single living being in Rookwood Mansion.

**A/N:** Hi guys! Just wanted to give you guys a big warm hug and thank you for reading the first chapter of _Anima_.

This will be an adventure/romance type story. Notice that there are two pairings in the description: TR/HG and HP/DM. Despite the fact that TR/HG come first, I intend this story to be a mix of three equal parts: the main plotline, the TR/HG romance and HP/DM romance. If this works as planned, you wouldn't be able to take this story as Tomione-centric or Drarry-centric, but both (keep in mind that I definitely do have my favourites, so it might not be as equal as it could be haha).

Be aware that Drarry isn't actually Drarry, but Draco Malfoy and a female version of Harry Potter. I don't have anything against gay couples (in fact, you might see a few strewn around in later chapters!) but I've always wanted to write a female Harry ever since I read _Inside My Mind_ by sistersgrimmlover a couple of years ago. It's a bit of a hefty reading, but it has a really interesting idea which is why it's stuck in my mind for as long as it has. I'm going to try to keep femHP as in-character as possible, but really, I just want to have fun with this story so we'll see where that ends up. Same goes for the other characters, too – especially Tom! Anyhow, there's my warning, and I hope you guys will try to give it a chance.

I think that's it for now. Please review to let me know if you like it, don't like it, love it, hate it, yadda yadda ya. As I don't have a beta, I'd very much appreciate it if you tacked any grammatical or spelling errors onto the end of your review so I can go back and fix it all up!

~ Crim


	2. NORA

**Chapter Two :: NORA  
**

She was screaming her throat raw.

"NO!" There were dead bodies everywhere…glassy eyes stared up at an ornate ceiling they would never again admire…corpses in long, dark robes and skull-like masks that lay fallen beside small, wrinkled bodies in tattered pillowcases… it was all her fault. It had been her wand; it was she who had uttered those two words over and over again, instantly killing her followers and the filthy animals who served them. It was she who had become so furious at the woman with the torches that she had gone on a torture spree; it was she who had spilled the blood of tens of innocents in one night. "No, no, no! _Stop!_ I didn't- I wasn't- I never meant to-"

"Nora!"

She glided through the empty halls of the mansion, her anger still simmering but her bloodlust assuaged…how fortunate for her Inner Circle that none of them had been present for that, except for poor Augustus Rookwoord, of course… "No! I'm not- I'm not like him, that wasn't me! Please-"

"_Nora!_"

She bolted straight up, her eyes wild and panicky as she took in her surroundings. For a few seconds, everything was a blur until she shakily reached for the glasses on the table beside her. The beautiful corridors abruptly melted away, in their place the mustard-yellow canvas of a tent. The stench of blood and vomit disappeared, to be replaced by the smell of leaves and trees. Her best friend was kneeling beside her little cot, dark brown eyes crinkled with worry.

"Nora, are you okay?" Hermione asked. "What did you see?"

"He's angry," she muttered, clenching her fists under her thick woollen blanket to stop them from shaking. Her breathing was laboured and her voice was quivering, but as she inhaled, she began to gradually calm down. _In, out. In, out._ "Manically angry. Angrier than he's ever been before. He's just murdered a mansion-ful of Death Eaters and house elves."

At the mention of dead house elves, the brunette pressed her lips together. "Important Death Eaters?"

Nora shook her head, brushing a jet-black strand of hair out of her face. "New recruits. No one we know, except for that one... Rookwood. He was angry at a woman. I've never seen her before."

A sharp whistling sound suddenly pierced the air, and Nora cringed. She had always hated the sound of kettles.

Hermione sighed and went to move the kettle off of the stove. There was a small moment of silence. "I thought we agreed that you were going to stop having these dreams, Nora. You said you'd practise your Occlumency." Nora heard the clinking of ceramic, and a few minutes later, Hermione was offering her a hot teacup. She accepted it gratefully.

"I do, but you know I'm rubbish at it."

She avoided looking at Hermione, however, because while it wasn't a lie, she still couldn't help but feel guilty. Every time she went to bed, she went hoping that she would catch a glimpse of Voldemort's plans, where he was, what he was up to. They had been isolated for months, hunting for Horcruxes, and they hadn't heard from the Order in weeks. Nora wasn't the kind to lay low, not knowing a thing, and she was growing restless and desperate for any news. She knew what Hermione would say if she ever find out, though, and quickly changed the subject. "What time is it? And where's the Ferret?"

Hermione sent her a look that said '_I know exactly what you're trying to do, and we'll be talking about this later_', but she glanced out the entrance of the tent all the same. "It's near 8am, and _Malfoy_ is out looking for something to eat." Nora snorted in a very unladylike manner, amused at the idea – despite having a few months to get used to it – of the Ferret doing labour. "I wish you would stop calling him that. It's juvenile, and since he's out here risking his life to help us find Horcruxes, you owe him at least the courtesy of being civil and calling him by his name."

"I don't owe him anything, Hermione, and neither do you," Nora said stubbornly as she took a sip from her cup, hissing when the hot Earl Grey scalded her tongue. She managed to choke it down, but gingerly set the rest down on the table beside her cot. "He's a coward, and he's only helping us because he thinks what Voldemort will do to him for betrayal is worse than what _we'll_ to do him. Shows what he knows. I should have left him with his Aunt Bellatrix that night at the Tower."

Hermione looked at her disapprovingly. "Regardless of his reasons," she replied, "the fact is that he _is _helping us. I trust him about as far as I can throw him, and I like him even less, but he helped us find the locket and he was the one who destroyed it. We can't afford to lose him now, and you being like that with him is only going to make that happen."

Nora saw the stubborn glint she knew so well enter Hermione's eyes. Personally, she thought her best friend was making too big a deal of Malfoy's involvement on their quest, but she knew why. Realistically, the two of them could have tracked down the locket – and the remaining Horcruxes – themselves, and with Hermione's natural gravitation towards knowledge, would have eventually found ways to destroy them. They didn't need the Ferret tagging along as their supposed 'Dark object expert', even with the Unbreakable Vow the Order had forced him into in exchange for protection, but with Ron gone…

Not that Draco Malfoy would _ever_ be suitable as the gum under Ron's boots, let alone as a replacement for him.

Fortunately, Nora was saved from having to reply and possibly starting an argument by the Devil himself appearing. The irony of the statement was not lost on her. "And the Ferret returns," she muttered under her breath. "Dutiful as ever in his mission to ruin the days of decent people everywhere."

"I left three rabbits in front of the tent," Malfoy said to no one in particular as he pushed open the flap of the tent, his customary sneer in place as always. "They're dead already."

He said nothing else as he strode to an armchair, sitting down and immediately opening the book that had been lying there. The chair was, of course, the nearest to the kitchen and the furthest from them, and had its back to them so they couldn't see his face. When they weren't trying to figure out what the remaining Horcruxes were or hatching plans to obtain them, he ignored them and went through Hermione's mountains of books, looking for anything that might give him a clue. Nora had reluctantly admitted after a few weeks that he was good at it; he was almost as diligent as the bookworm herself.

Hermione and Nora exchanged a look. "Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione said politely. Her only reply was an annoyed-sounding grunt, which prompted her to get up. "I'll go and fix them up for lunch."

"No," Nora said, shoving her blanket away from her and climbing off the cot. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. She looked concerned, as if she doubted Nora's mental health after that latest episode of Voldemort's sick, twisted mind, but Nora just nodded even though the last thing she needed was to be around more blood and guts. She slipped on a pair of boots.

"I'm not an invalid, Hermione. It was just a dream, and you've been working yourself to the bone. You need rest."

"I'm fine, Nora. I'll just make myself more tea-"

"Hermione," Nora interrupted her firmly. "Go to bed." She loved Hermione, warts and all, but the girl didn't know when too much was _too much_. Without a word to Malfoy, she stepped out of the tent, embracing the chilly air and looking around. It was hard to believe that they could be in such a peaceful place, when the rest of England was in turmoil. The Forest of Dean looked, for all intents and purposes, untouched by the war.

When she saw the rabbits, she found herself glad that Malfoy had killed them already. Their bodies lay strewn on their sides, but they didn't looked dead; rather, they looked like they had just tripped and fallen but were about to bound up again, ready to escape through the forest away from the humans who hunted their brothers and sisters. She knew she wouldn't have been able to kill them herself, as hungry as they were getting. She couldn't even stand to have to gut and skin them, but Hermione had been awake for the past 48 hours and needed to sleep. Malfoy sure as hell wouldn't do it, which meant she had to be the Gryffindor she was and suck it up.

With a jab of her wand, her wavy hair coiled itself into a tight bun and she got to work.

* * *

She returned to the tent an hour and a half later to find that Hermione had not gone to sleep at all. Instead, she was sitting, of all places, next to Malfoy, and they had a huge book open on the coffee table in front of them. Hermione was saying something animatedly to the blonde – complete with hand gestures and all – and for once, he didn't look snide or superior. His brows were furrowed, his eyes were scanning the lines of the book, and he looked like he was in deep concentration, listening to what Hermione was saying. It was such a change of pace from the last few weeks that Nora merely stared.

When Hermione finally looked up and noticed she was there, Nora got a good look at her. Her eyes were glittering with the kind of excitement she only ever got when she had solved a puzzle or figured out the last missing piece of the jigsaw, and she excitedly gestured for the raven-haired girl to look at something in the book she had been perusing. "Nora! Come here, quick! I think Malfoy's found something!"

"Really?" Nora asked skeptically, forgetting all about the rabbits. "_Malfoy_ found something?"

"Oh yes, Potter," Malfoy said disparagingly, crossing his arms, "don't even try to hide your surprise at my being useful. It's not like I was the one who got Kreacher to listen to you when we were at Grimmauld place, was I? Nor was I the one who managed to steal the locket from that toad Umbridge's neck, or the one who stabbed it when you idiotically decided to dive into a frozen lake, almost killing yourself."

Nora's cheeks flushed, and she glowered at him angrily. "Shut up, Malfoy." It was a lame response, and by Malfoy's smirk, she knew he thought he had gotten the last word. While there was a whole host of other, more colourful things she could have said, she didn't want to incur Hermione's anger, who was already looking between them in an irritated manner.

"Can't you keep off of each other's throats for one conversation?" she asked. "You only have to survive with each other until You-Know-Who's dead!"

They might all be on the run from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but there was no way she was even going to let him _think_ they were on friendly terms until he changed, which she didn't think would be happening anytime soon. Or in the next hundred years, for that matter. "No." They glared at each other harder.

The brunette pursed her lips. "Just look at this, Nora." She hauled the thick book over, needing both hands, which prompted Nora to raise an eyebrow.

"'_A Comprehensive History of Magical Objects from the 5th Century to the Present' _by Hesper Fowl?" Now that she got a close look at it, she realised that it was huge _and_ ancient. In fact, it looked so old that the 'Present' had probably been somewhere in the 1600s.

"Page 752, paragraph three and onwards."

Nora took one glance and cringed at the miniscule writing.

_Chapter LXXXVII: Ninth Century Europe_

_The founding of the school of Hogwarts is arguably the most notable accomplishment of the western European Wizarding World for this time period. Before its establishment, its four Founders – Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin - had already risen to great prominence separately for their widely-proclaimed skill and expertise in duelling…_

It continued in this vein for some time. According to the book, each of the four had had legendary heirlooms that they claimed were the sources of their talent. Hufflepuff had had a goblet, from which she would drink before each duel and never lose; Ravenclaw had a tiara which was said to enhance the wisdom and battle intelligence of the wearer; Gryffindor had a mighty sword which he wielded in one hand, his wand in the other; and Slytherin had a locket, rumoured to be the reason he could not be physically damaged in combat.

Nora found herself enjoying it. It talked not only of magical objects but also all the varied stories that surrounded them, even if she found it hard to believe that Hufflepuff had once used her cup to poison a man who had wanted to force her into marriage. While there wasn't much information on Slytherin (it seemed the author wasn't fond of the Dark wizard Founder either), there was a treasure trove on the other three and it made for some interesting reading. Still, after twelve pages, she couldn't figure out the significance of what she had just read, because aside from the mention of Slytherin's locket and Gryffindor's sword, she didn't see what reading old stories had to do with anything.

"I get that the Founders had their favourite items and all…" Nora said, looking up once the book finished detailing the Founders' relics and started in on the medieval wizard's favourite Muggle torture devices. "But what exactly am I looking for here?"

"You told us that You-Know-Who thought of Hogwarts as his first real home, right?" Hermione said. She nodded. "Malfoy doesn't think his use of Slytherin's locket as a Horcrux is purely because he's descended from him, and now that I think of it, neither do I. We know from his use of his journal and his grandfather's ring that he's been pretty sentimental about what he chooses."

Nora took a second to process this. "Well then what _do_ you think?" she asked with a frown, intentionally aiming her question at Malfoy. His surprise only lasted a second.

"Considering his penchant for extremely valuable items and the significance he placed on Hogwarts," he answered, sounding slightly stiff, "it seems a logical conclusion that he would have chosen the other Founder items, too, with the exception of Gryffindor's sword."

"The sword can't be made into a Horcrux," Hermione added, "since it's made from goblin's silver, and goblin's silver only imbibes what will strengthen it. Becoming a Horcrux would only make it more vulnerable."

Even if she wasn't at Hermione or Malfoy's level, her mind could be quick enough when it wanted to be, and she found comprehension dawning on her. "The diadem and the cup, though, are legendary _and _powerful enough to feed his ego," she said slowly. "It makes sense. When he worked at Borgin and Burkes, he would have had the opportunity to meet a lot of collectors of rare and questionable artefacts… it's likely he met someone who knew who owned the two items, or the owners themselves, and managed to persuade them to tell him."

"That was probably his only reason for working at Borgin and Burke's. I mean, the man was brilliant!" Hermione agreed. She intentionally ignored the incredulous looks Nora and Malfoy sent her. "Straight O's in everything! The highest OWL and NEWT scores in the history of each! He could have been anything he wanted to be." A look of envy crossed the brunette's face. "He could have been a Potion's Master, or a House Elf rights activist at the Ministry…"

Nora seriously doubted that Voldemort had had any desire to become a champion for the oppressed in his life, and had started questioning her friend's sanity when Hermione finished off with, "It's too bad he had to spend all that knowledge and potential becoming a murderer."

"Nice save there, Granger," Malfoy said wryly. "For I second, I thought you were going to go all Aunt Bellatrix on us. Crazy _and_ a Dark Lord lover." Hermione shot him a dark look.

_And the Ferret actually jokes_. Nora began to grin, but then Malfoy looked at her and she quickly wiped it off. "Right then. So we all agree that the cup and the diadem are Horcruxes," she said, "and now we've just got to locate them. As long as we've got the sword, we'll be able to destroy them as soon as we find them. Any ideas?"

"His orphanage?" Hermione suggested, before frowning. "Wait, no. You said he despised that place."

"It's possible he left one with another of his followers," Malfoy said. "He_did_ leave the diary with my father. It would have to be someone he really trusts, though."

"The whole point of being a Dark lord with followers and not friends is that he has trust issues," Hermione shook her head. "No…if he gave it to one of his followers, it would have to be for some other reason. Why did he give it to your father?"

"Bugger if I know," Malfoy shrugged. "The Dark Lord doesn't particularly like my father."

"Well, maybe it's…"

Nora tuned them out, watching them argue, her own idea brewing in her head. "Hey," she said suddenly, interrupting them. "What if one's at Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione immediately shot her idea down. "That's really unlikely, Nora. Why would he keep a treasured part of his soul in the place he was defeated and practically died? That's just silly and completely out of character with what we know of him."

"But say… say he wanted it there as a reminder. A reminder that…that even if he dies, he'll always rise. Or something arrogant like that." She really wished there _was_ a Horcrux at Godric's Hollow, if only so she could see where she had been born, where her parents had died…

"I don't think so," Hermione said, oblivious to Nora's thoughts. "He would have had to put it there before he disappeared, and there was no way he could have known that the Killing Curse would have rebounded and killed him instead."

"If we're going on the idea of famous wizarding landmarks or places, though," Malfoy thought out loud, "then how about Gringotts?"

Hermione looked at Nora. "It's possible," Nora said reluctantly. She still wanted to discuss Godric's Hollow. "But I don't think he ever had enough money to make a vault of his own. He was poor all throughout Hogwarts, and once he became the Dark Lord, it made more sense to just take money from his rich, Pureblood supporters. If there _is_ one there, it'd have to be-"

Nora cut off as she felt unexpectedly intense pain in her head, as if someone was trying to pull her mind apart. She gasped in agony. Her immediate instincts told her that her link with Voldemort was opening again, but she barely had enough time to wonder how it was opening while she was wide awake (and _why_ she had the unfortunate luck to be hit with it two times in that same number of hours) before she sunk to her knees and screamed.

She vaguely heard Hermione say her name, as well as Malfoy's horrified _'Potter?_' They sounded far away, as if they were shouting at the top of their lungs from across a Quidditch pitch. Her vision was swimming and the pain of trying to keep her eyes open forced her to shut them. However, she immediately wished she hadn't.

_The first thing that she noticed was that she was no longer in the tent, and that Hermione and Malfoy were nowhere to be seen. The second was that her migraine had disappeared; now only a dull throbbing at her temples._

"_Potter."_

_The snake-like figure literally appeared out of nowhere, and she tensed._

"_Voldemort."_

"_An interesting place, isn't it?" Her entire surroundings were white…not white objects, or a white tangible environment. Just white, though if she had to put a name on it, she would have said white light. _

"_Where are we?" Nora demanded. She patted her pockets, trying to find her wand, but they were empty. A shot of fear rushed through her. "How did you open the link?"_

_Voldemort only looked at her, his lipless mouth stretching into a cruel smile. "You won't find your wand," he said after a time. "Magic cannot be done in here, inside your head. _She_ would hate for her precious saviour to be in danger of any harm." He looked up sardonically, as if whoever 'she' was could hear. _

_Suddenly, he was in front of her, and before she had time to move, his long, spider-like fingers were wrapped around her neck, and he was choking her. "What I want to know is…what is stopping me from killing the great Girl-Who-Lived right now?" His fingers tightened. "What is stopping me from breaking your neck and making sure you never have the chance to fulfil your prophecy?"_

_Nora writhed in his grip, trying to claw at his hands and kick him away. She was strong, but she was no match for Voldemort, who was watching her desperate bid for air in fascination. _Oh no, _she thought furiously._ I am _not _going to die at his hands like this. Not for no reason, not when we're so close.

_He kept his tight grip for what felt like hours, and even though she struggled, she could feel her consciousness slipping away…_

_Abruptly, he dropped her, looking disgusted. "You have no control over your mind, Potter. You are weak. If you had been more intelligent and decided to think, you would have realised that I cannot kill you inside your head. If such a feat were possible, you would have been dead long before now…although, I find myself disappointed that I will never be the one to kill you in the future."_

_It hurt to breathe. "Why…why am I…why am I here then?" Nora gasped, gulping in air like water. Whatever he said, it had certainly _felt_ real enough to her. She rubbed her throat and hurriedly stood up, not liking being in such a vulnerable state in front of him._

"_I require something of you, Potter."_

"_What could you possibly want from the 'weak Girl-Who-Lived'?" she spat._

"_You will find out soon enough. This is merely a forewarning as to my arrival tomorrow at your hiding place." Her eyes widened, and she clenched her fist. There was no possible way he knew. "Oh yes, I know where you are. _

"_Currently, I have Death Eaters setting up anti-Apparition wards all over the Forest of Dean as well as the entirety of Gloucestershire. If you try to run, they will find you, and you will die immediately. I trust I do not have to tell you that it would be incredibly stupid to try to leave; therefore, you have no choice but to wait for me. If you need further impetus to remain, then know that I have your werewolf Lupin currently sitting in the dungeons of a Pureblood-filled home. They would love nothing better than to have the chance to have some fun with him. Perhaps they will practise on him what they plan to do to your friends as they die for you, one at a time." His cold smile grew wide._

"_You have Remus?" she immediately growled, before pausing. His mention of Remus felt like a stab in the heart, but she forced herself to take his advice, to calm down and think. Remus was safe. He was in Merlin knows where, looking after himself and Tonks. There was no way they had found him; her friend was too cautious for that._

"_You doubt me," Voldemort said, sounding unimpressed. "You truly are stupid, Potter. Believe me when I lie, doubt me when I am honest."_

"_You're never honest," Nora replied with narrowed eyes._

"_On the contrary; I am honest when it benefits me, and not having you killed at the hands of my Death Eaters greatly benefits me. If you still doubt me, I will not try to persuade you otherwise, but your friend will be dead before tomorrow."_

"_How do I know you're not lying? Remus is safe and far away from you."_

"_You don't know that I'm not lying," Voldemort said callously, "but someone as incredibly foolish as you would not take that chance. We have much to discuss, Potter. If you truly wish to defeat me, you will remain where you are and await my arrival. I look forward to our meeting."_

_As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone._

Her eyes flew open, and she was back in the tent. She quickly sat up, almost knocking heads with Hermione.

"Nora…" Hermione said worriedly, but before she could say anything else, Malfoy started shouting.

"_What the hell was that?_" He was looming over her, standing while she was sprawled on the ground, and not once in the whole trip had she seen him with even a smidgen of the emotion that was now scrawled on his face. He looked…well, he honestly looked like he had just had the scare of his life and was trying to hide it by acting mad. She couldn't blame him; it was the first time he had seen her while in the midst of a link with Voldemort.

"I…" Her head was pounding. "Shut up, Malfoy. My head hurts." He looked livid. "What happened?"

"You started screaming out of nowhere," Hermione informed her, "and went into a sort of catatonic state. Then you started murmuring something… there was one moment when you seemed to be having some kind of seizure."

Everything came in a rush, and her fingers flew to her throat. Had it been real? The skin felt raw and incredibly tender. Hermione's eyes followed Nora's actions as she quickly conjured a small mirror and looked at her neck. The red imprints clearly looked like fingers.

"It was real," Nora muttered. "It was real."

"What was real?" Malfoy demanded. "What are you talking about? Dammit, Potter, start making sense!"

She looked up at them. "I just had a conversation with Voldemort inside my head. He's got Remus-" Hermione froze, "-and he knows where we are. He's coming here. Tomorrow."

**A/N:** And…part two is dooooone. Thanks for the reviews for the first chapter – I realise it wasn't very exciting, which probably explains the lack of follows/reviews (unless there really is no interest in this). Things should pick up from here, though, and I estimate one or two more chapters of the 'Getting to know the context and setting' arc before we can get into the good stuff. I'm trying to cronk all of this necessary stuff out as soon as possible, so once we _do_ start getting into the nice stuff, chapter updates will be coming once a week.

On a less enthusiastic note, to the anonymous reviewer who said that 'Fem!Harry is the cancer that is killing fanfiction', you are entirely entitled to your opinion, and I respect you for taking the time to tell me it. However, I'd also like to say that anyone who wants to post similar messages in the future in the hopes of dissuading me shouldn't bother, since I won't be changing my mind about it LOL. If you don't like it, don't read it, and if you didn't read it, why bother posting a review at all? You're only upping my review count :P Plus, you never know, Nora might turn out to be surprisingly _not_ cancerous.

Anyway, please read and review, and tell me if you think this is a yay or a nay. Constructive criticism/compliments are entirely welcome, flames not so much. Like before, if you notice any glaringly obvious spelling or grammatical mistakes, please feel free to leave it at the end of your review so I can fix it!

Yours,

Crim


End file.
